


Purple skin

by Anon2339



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ABC poem format, I needed to write this for class and decided to post it here, poem, shitty poem if I'm being honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:49:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10165367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon2339/pseuds/Anon2339
Summary: Allura walks in on a sleeping Keith. She doesn't trust him farther than he can throw himself. Looking into the past has her anger boiling and it seems Keith is on the receiving end of a storm from 10,000 years ago.





	

Allura leaned into the commons room to see who all was in there.

Black hair greeted her eyes and her smile dropped slightly.

Counting to ten, she stepped into the room and saw the (unsurprising) figure of the red paladin sprawled across the pillows.

Daring to chance a peek at his slumbering form, she tip-toed to the front of the C shaped couch.

Even with his gloves on, she could see the purple branching out from his hands.

“For the sake of the team, let’s just cooperate with each other,” He had huffed out at her, like he was explaining a simple concept to a child.

Greedily, she had hated him when she found out.

He was part of a race that wept out her family and everyone she ever loved.

In years past, she may have forgiven him; but now?

Just looking at his face brought anger simmering below her skin.

Keith hadn’t done anything but protect her and his teammates so far, it could be a faced though.

Luck saved him every time.

Months in space and he was still alive somehow, despite his unreliability and quick-temper.

Nothing could stop her now though.

Out here, in the little room away from everyone else, she could strip off his gloves and show everyone else he was a monster.

Purple, the mark of evil and death, it marrs his skin.

Quickly, she would have to move before he woke up and killed her like the rest of her family.

Right before she could take a step, he shifted and something akin to a whimper seeped from his throat.

She was shocked, was he having a nightmare?

Taking a glance around, Allura leaned toward her enemy and comrade.

Until that night, she had never heard someone other than herself cry in their sleep.

Violence was laced in his blood but here sat this child, shaking and whimpering with pain deeper than any stab wound.

Without even thinking about her actions, Allura brought a blanket over and put a pillow beneath his head.

Xenophobia was a sin in her culture,

Yet here she was, holding someone who put complete trust in her out at arm's length.

Zigzags of purple were still visible under his mullet, she finally understood why he would wear gloves and cover himself up so much: he was ashamed of his heritage.

Allura leaned in to speak to him. Softly, she said, "I'm sorry."


End file.
